Affinity: Book Three in the Doctors Smith & Saxon series
by ss9
Summary: Modern AU: oil and water don't mix well and on paper neither should John Smith & Missy Saxon.


Affinity

-/-

It was just coffee, cake and conversation. So why did the prospect make his stomach clench?

Dr John Smith was a man who kept his word, yet if he was being honest keeping his word wasn't the only reason he was keeping this appointment as hidden beneath the churn of nerves there was a spark of something else; a part of him was curious and the Doctor had never been able to restrain his curiosity. As a boy he had gotten himself into far too many scrapes because he wanted to know how something worked, or where that road went, or what happened if you poked that…

It was almost a miracle that he had survived to reach his fifties he pondered before quickly supressing the dark thought that as always lurked on the edge of his consciousness, the one that reminded him that he almost hadn't.

Digging his fingers into the soft leather of his desk chair John quickly ran through the calming breathing exercises that someday felt like they were the only thing standing between him and a complete nervous breakdown. He wasn't going to think about that, not now, not ever if he had his way. He just had to find a way to live with it and in some ways he had. Just recently he had made considerable progress in reclaiming some of his former life…his writing was his lifeline and now that was once again flowing and John had something on which to focus his mind, something to stop him dwelling on the bad thoughts.

He had even managed to leave the house now on several occasions without the need for an escort, although finding the motivation and courage to do so often took most of the morning to achieve. Small steps…that's what was needed…every day taken on its own merits and not compared to what had come before, to what he had been before.

Seated in front of his trusty typewriter John ran his fingers lovingly over the keys, he still preferred to write on the old girl instead of moving on to some fancy laptop. There was just something so solid and dependable about the old model 40 and John was certain he did better work because of it, because he had to take the time to think about what he wanted to write rather than just rattling off anything that could then be deleted at a whim. So what if he had to replace worn out keys and type settings himself, John enjoyed the excuse to get out his screwdriver and tinker.

Yet John didn't dare start writing today. He knew himself only too well and once he was immersed in his work then it would take a crowbar to prise him away and he didn't dare miss his appointment with Missy Saxon…It was only a suspicion, an inkling that John had, but his gut told him that Missy was not a woman he wanted angry with him…he imagined her means of revenge could get a little creative. It was a strange thought but even stranger was that it made him smile. Missy Saxon let loose would be a sight to see, providing it wasn't him she was attacking; he was only curious not an idiot.

"Doctor?"

Startled from his thoughts John glanced up from his desk, surprised to see Clara already stood in the doorway. Laden down with a satchel full of completed marking and buttoned into her coat, watching him with a fond if slightly exasperated expression on her face that already had John feeling guilty before she chastised him for whatever he had done wrong this time.

"Yes Clara?" He asked innocently, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his fingers, a superior frown gathering between his impressive eyebrows.

"Don't you glare at me like I was one of your old undergraduates." Clara tutted shifting her battered brown satchel on to her shoulder before waving one of her little hands around expressively. "What exactly happened in here, did a tornado hit Chelsea and I missed it?"

"Ahh…" The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, his blue grey gaze taking in the current state of his study. It had seen better days. "I had misplaced something…" And he had it had taken turning his study upside down most of Sunday afternoon before he had found the piece of paper with the name and address of the Scottish bakery written on it.

"And that's an excuse for not putting anything back?"

"It took me a long time to find it." The Doctor defended. "And I will put everything back…eventually…"

"And by eventually you actually mean today?" Clara prompted pointedly, her own eyebrows raised. "The cleaner comes tomorrow and she won't touch this room if it's like this and I already pick up around the rest of the house…"

"Clara it won't kill me if this place isn't vacuumed and dusted every week." The Doctor huffed. "Besides you know I don't like having other people in here…touching and moving things…"

"Which is why you need to at least stack this out the way, Constance wouldn't need to move anything if you left her enough room to navigate with and do we really need to have another conversation about the mugs? About how their proper home when the tea has gone cold is in the dishwasher or at the very least moved into the kitchen."

"Fine I'll move the mugs." The Doctor huffed, conceding this much if it would stop the nagging, it wasn't really that difficult a task he just genuinely forgot most of the time.

Standing up he gathered the few half-finished cold cups of tea that were loitering in between piles of paper, juggling them expertly he headed towards the doorway which Clara was loitering in.

"You look nice." Clara commented abruptly and the Doctor stopped just as abruptly.

"Thank you." He replied awkwardly, glancing down at the three piece dark grey suit and soft blue tie that he had chosen with unusual care that morning.

"You're going out?"

It was phrased like a question but it was rhetorical. When languishing in front of his typewriter all day John barely bothered to shave let alone take much care with his clothing. He normally threw on a pair of dark jeans and whatever shirt was clean, occasionally a hooded jacket if the study was a little cold. Yet when he stepped outside of the house the Doctor liked at least to maintain the façade of his previous self, he had a wardrobe full of suits tailored by some of the leading gentleman's outfitters across the globe. His clothing was his armour and he couldn't step outside without it on.

"Just some research." The Doctor mumbled awkwardly, forcing a smile to cover the lie, as he bustled Clara out of the doorway and headed down the stairs to the basement kitchen.

Hearing Clara following him on the steps John took the mugs over to the Belfast sink, dumping the dregs of the tea down the drain, even swilling out the stained cups with cold water before beginning the laborious task that was working out the dishwasher. The damn thing didn't like him he was certain it never seemed to work properly when he used it, Clara always maintained that was because he had never taken the time to read the bloody manual and that if he had then it was surprisingly straightforward to operate.

"Well I hope you find what you need." Clara offered and John ignored the hopeful tone to her voice as he made more of his chore than was needed.

"Yeah thanks."

He could see her standing there awkwardly in the edge of his peripheral vision. Clearly she was waiting for something from him. A hug perhaps or a goodbye kiss…the old him would have obliged, he had been tactile once. Yet now the thought of observing those sorts of enforced social niceties set his teeth on edge, even with her he just couldn't bring himself to.

"So I'll just be…" Clara sighed softly and the Doctor felt like a complete cad as he nodded and kept his gaze locked on stacking the dishwasher. "I will be a little late home tonight, parents evening and some of the staff are thinking of going out for drinks afterwards at The Crown to you know commiserate. You could come and join us; we could get dinner on the way home?"

"I'll see." The Doctor offered non-committal, yet they both knew he wouldn't.

They both knew and they both lied to each other and themselves. Every day they lied and kept on living a lie, yet they let it go on because the lies were easier than the truth. The lies were comfortable and familiar and meant they could avoid having to face difficult decisions. The Doctor lied because he was selfish, because knew without Clara here there would be no one who cared enough to make sure he got up in the morning, that he ate at least once a day and occasionally cleared his study out of mouldy tea cups.

She was his life support machine, she had kept him alive the last twelve months, yet that was really only surviving not living but it was enough for John. If he could survive and he could somehow still write then that would be enough. He couldn't bring himself to strive for more, not even for Clara. It was bitter truth that he was too much of a selfish coward to speak aloud but Clara would be much better off cutting him loose, he was nothing more than a leech. Yet he swallowed it down, avoided anything that might remotely hint at intimacy and feigned ignorance when it hurt her because while he lied she stayed.

The only thing that confused him was why Clara kept on lying?

That he wasn't so sure of. Yet he suspected her lies were born of selflessness unlike his. She kept on lying to herself that things were going to return to how they had been between them; that somehow she would get her Doctor back. Yet the Doctor knew that version of John Smith was dead, he had died in a hostage camp in Somalia when another man had taken the bullet intended for him, him the one who wouldn't shut up or stop causing trouble and it cost others their lives.

"I'll see you later." Clara offered with forced enthusiasm, impetuously leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek…a kiss that John couldn't help but flinch from and an apology stuck in his throat as her bottom lip trembled, those damn eyes of hers turned glassy for a moment before she regained control and once again forced a false smile.

"Bye then."

"Bye." John whispered softly as her footsteps faded on the kitchen steps, before taking his guilt and frustration out on the damn dishwasher which gave a worrying groaning noise when he kicked it.

Shoving his hands into his pockets to stop himself from slamming them into the worktop and causing more damage John once again found himself repeating his breathing exercises…in through the nose…one two three…out through the mouth…one two three…and repeat.

Finally calm enough he pulled his clenched hands out, cursing as this emptied the odds and ends in his cavernous jacket pockets on to the kitchen floor…a tissue…a loose breath mint…a playing card…god knows how long that had been in there…oh and finally the little hand written note that he had turned his study upside down hunting for. Staring down at the elegant slanted handwriting John forced himself to focus on his upcoming meeting with Missy and not his uncomfortable exchange with Clara. He would need all his wits about him to handle Missy Saxon, he couldn't afford to get distracted by things he couldn't change.

-/-

He was five minutes early, it was another mark in John Smith's favour as Missy Saxon couldn't abide other people who turned up late…she naturally was another matter, in Missy's opinion that she turned up in the first place should be enough for other people. Still she did make an effort to be on time for the things that mattered, and meeting John Smith for coffee definitely fell into that category. That the little bakery and coffee shop was only a few streets away from her office just made it easier for her, and Missy was already three quarters of the way through her first cup of coffee by the time she was due to meet John.

Besides she had waited for him to arrive before she ordered anything sweet though, that was only polite.

So now seated inside her favourite little nook at the table tucked upstairs with the comfy seats, a half-finished copy of some tawdry French romance novel abandoned on the table, Missy allowed herself to indulge in the fascinating exploit of watching John Smith when he didn't know she was. It was really amusing how many times he checked his watch as he stood outside, his dexterous long fingered hands were never still, even when waiting he was either taking them in and out of his pockets to check his watch or fiddling with that gorgeous silver grey hair of his.

Once again he looked immaculately dressed and Missy enjoyed running her gaze freely over his long limbed frame before she reminded herself quite forcefully that John Smith was not available…well not freely available…there was the pretty Miss Clara in the picture somewhere, not that Missy was certain exactly where the young woman did fit, but it was certainly something more than the friend that John had described her as; an ex maybe?

Finally as if able to feel the weight of her gaze upon him John Smith looked up, those thunderously expressive eyebrows of his pulling down to a point as their gazes met and he huffed in annoyance before disappearing from her view as the shop bell tinkled.

A few moments later and the scowling man was dropping like a stone into the opposite arm chair.

"I suppose you thought it was funny leaving me to wait out there in the cold?" John snapped. His irritation at being made to think he had been stood up spilling over into his mannerisms as he all but flung his coat off like a scolded diva.

Yet if Missy cared about his sour tone or expression she didn't reveal it, in fact a slight smile danced for a moment about her painted lips before she raised her gaze and those bright blue eyes pinned him firmly in place.

"Have you finished sulking? I mean heaven forefend you thought to check inside the shop before waiting in the cold." Missy retorted matter-of-factly.

"You could have come and gotten me." John huffed, still scowling out from beneath his eyebrows yet most of the bite had gone from his tone to be replaced by a hint of pique.

"Yes but then I would have gotten cold." Missy pointed out bluntly raising her coffee cup to her lips and wincing as she took a sip of the now tepid liquid. "Just like my coffee…urrghh." She added with exaggerated disgust setting it down as she wrinkled her nose. "Well good job I was getting up anyway. Americano?"

Nodding distractedly John slumped further down into the comfy armchair as Missy stood and vanished back downstairs into the little shop, left alone for a moment he allowed his gaze to travel. It was quaint, a little shabby, not the sort of place that he would normally give a second look at least in London but there was something almost homey about and the wall lined with bookshelves filled with well-worn paperbacks almost reminded him of one of his favourite undergraduate hidey-holes.

Yet it was the paperback that was currently lying open on the table top that really got his attention…that didn't look like astrophysics…

Glancing quickly over his shoulder John slipped his hand over to the book, picking it up he squinted at the words for a moment before his brain made the connection that it wasn't in English. John had always had a talent for picking up languages, he had travelled extensively during his life and could make himself understood in most countries, there were several that he spoke well enough to hold a proper conversation in but he had never translated that oral skill into learning to read or write another language. Flipping over the book to squint at the cover John immediately wished that he hadn't, in his wildest dreams he hadn't expected Missy to be reading something like that! Not in public at least.

"I'll lend it to you when I'm finished if you like?" An amused voice echoed from the stairwell and John could feel his embarrassment multiply as Missy Saxon returned, setting their coffee mugs down on the table before taking the seat opposite him.

"It's total trash of course but somehow the French seem to pull that off with so much more aplomb…oh and the sex scenes are quite inventive, I would never have thought to use a saddle like that..."

"I think I will pass thank you." John spluttered shoving the offending book back across the table like it had burnt or could contaminate him just by its mere presence.

"Suit yourself." Missy replied glibly from over the rim of her coffee cup, her eyelids falling shut for a moment as she breathed in the heavenly aroma of freshly brewed hot coffee, already she could feel it firing the synapses of her brain causing thoughts to go whizzing about at double speed.

"Do the two of you want to be alone?" John snorted unable to tear his gaze away from the look of quiet rapture on her face that was so very compelling for some unknown reason.

Raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow as she opened her eyes and fixed them on a far too amused John Smith Missy waited until the man in question was just taking a sip from his own cup before replying silkily. "No need I am perfectly comfortable with the concept of a threesome."

Spluttering and choking on the hot liquid John had no choice but spit undignified his mouthful of hot coffee back into his cup. Wiping away the dribbles from his chin with the back of his hand he scrambled in his pocket for the old crumpled tissue to clean himself up before turning the full force of his glare on Missy who strangely enough seemed to find the situation more and not less amusing by the second.

"That was juvenile."

"Yes it was but it was also very funny." Missy batted back, shrugging off John Smith's glower with the ease of years of practice with grumpy Scotsmen. "Besides maybe it will be a valuable life lesson about not prying." She added pointedly, picking up her saucy novel and putting it away in her bag.

"So John Smith…" Missy drawled slowly her eyes openly and slowly scrutinising the man in front of her, prickly, quick to temper and equally quick to soothe, surprisingly innocent or at least shockable for a man of his years, and gorgeous did she forget to mention that?

Oh he might not fit the typical profile, he wasn't George Clooney, most people would say he was too tall too thin, his face too pale and worn, his nose too big but none of that was John Smith. John Smith was the magnetic force wearing that face and body, he was those glinting blue grey eyes that seemed to pick up everything, the clever dexterous hands that even now couldn't stop moving and touching…the cup…the table…fiddling with his cuff…

Was she ever going to finish that sentence? Resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny of that bright blue gaze John forced himself to relax, turning his attention to his coffee which was rather good and then a moment later when a veritable delight of cake was delivered to their little table he had something else to study.

"Peace offering?" John offered pushing the old fashioned cake stand in Missy's direction first.

Unable to contain her smile or her eye roll Missy reached out and took a slice of shortbread, biting into the delicious buttery treat that melted in her mouth. Only John Smith would propose a truce with the cakes she had bought in the first place.

"Just like mother used to make." Missy sighed in contentment as the sugar did its work.

"Grandmother." John was amending before he could stop himself, then at the unspoken question in her eyes he offered quietly. "I was raised by my maternal grandparents my mother didn't…wasn't around much."

Missy could guess at the rest, illegitimate probably, with his mother either working away to support the family or having abandoned her responsibilities. "You're from Glasgow aren't you?" She asked waiting for John to either confirm or correct her before continuing, when he nodded slowly she added. "That must have been an interesting place to grow up?"

"You mean as the bastard protestant child in a predominantly catholic neighbourhood?" John snorted sarcastically. "Yeah it was interesting as you say."

"Believe me growing up as the youngest daughter of an alcoholic unemployed shipbuilder wasn't a barrel of laughs either." Missy countered refusing to allow his prickliness to put her off. "And I wasn't being sarcastic; for those of us in Ayr Glasgow was the height of exotic, believe me."

Leaning back in his chair John was forced to concede he might have jumped the gun a little there. He was naturally defensive about his upbringing, it hadn't been a particularly happy one and it wasn't something he was keen to revisit. When he had passed the exams to attend the boy's grammar school John had all but refused to talk about his family to his fellow pupils, they all came from mainly affluent middle class families. He was lucky that with a name like John Smith he could simply fade into the wood work if he wanted, and he became the quiet studious boy always found in the library reading and dreaming about other places.

"Sorry." John mumbled awkwardly relieved when Missy merely waved it off.

"It's alright I don't talk about my family either." Missy conceded with a sigh. "I left Scotland ten years ago and other than occasionally missing the quiet I have done my best not to look back…" She added surprising them both when her voice broke a little at the end and she covered up her moment of vulnerability by fussing with her coffee cup.

Frowning slightly John couldn't help but do the math in his head, ten years would have put her in her late twenties maybe early thirties, he really was terrible at judging anyone's age. Yet he couldn't help being curious. "Why did you leave? Why then and not before?" He clarified when Missy looked a little startled by the personal question.

For a moment Missy considered ignoring the question entirely and yet there was something about John Smith that almost made her want to open up and reveal all of the dark twisted past that she had tried so hard to forget. Perhaps it was the strong sense of affinity; the almost palpable sense that if anyone could understand he would. Instead she settled for an honest if cryptic reply.

"I never planned to…I had a life but then things went wrong and I guess I was just running away from bad memories."

Nodding in understanding John of all people could comprehend that, yet instead of running he had chosen hiding, who was he to say which was healthier. "Not therapy then?" He asked unable to contain a snort of amusement as Missy shot him a look that was pure disdain.

"Doctors are the worst people at taking care of their own health." Missy countered pointedly unable to resist returning the impish smile that John shot her before he popped a Montrose cake into his mouth. "I think that applies true in all areas of the field."

For a moment they sat there in a surprisingly easy silence, Missy sipping her coffee, John slowing making his way through most of the cakes his adorable eyebrows doing interesting little shuffles each time he tried something new. If she let him Missy suspected he would eat his way through the entire stand, the man was clearly a sugar junky and for a moment Missy had a vision of a much younger version all hyped on sugar babbling on at a hundred miles a minute as he wiggled about unable to keep still for a second. Yet when he reached for the last Montrose cake her indulgence had reached its limit and Missy leant forward and smacked his fingers.

"Hey!" John spluttered, startled more by the sudden contact than he was injured by her blow, even if she hadn't exactly been gentle.

"Well stop hogging them!" Missy hissed before snatching up the last Montrose cake, sticking her tongue out at John peevishly before popping the delicacy into her mouth, a wide smile playing about her lips as she munched it and reached for another cake.

It was ridiculously childish but John couldn't resist it, snatching up the piece of shortbread before Missy could and taking a large bite, moaning loudly in appreciation as she glared daggers at him.

"You are such a child!"

"This from the grown woman who stuck her tongue out at me!"

"You deserved it cake hogger!"

Unable to resist it or suppress the laughter that bubbled up inside of him John Smith laughed, out loud, the rough rasping noise surprising to even his own ears and yet it warmed him in a way he hadn't felt warm in forever and when it was joined by Missy's loud uninhibited bark of laughter followed by surprisingly girlish giggles John could feel his mouth hurt from smiling quiet so hard. And from then on it was surprisingly easy, the time passed by at a far too strident pace and it wasn't until John glanced out of the window and noted the quickly darkening sky that he realised just how long they had been there.

A glance at the leather and silver Breitling adorning his wrist today John was stunned by the lateness of the hour. He would need to be leaving, at this rate Clara might even make it home before him and then there would be awkward questions to answer, answers John selfishly didn't feel like supplying. He had enjoyed himself, and he didn't fancy having that memory soured by an uncomfortable interrogation.

"I suppose we really should be making a move." Missy spoke first and John was gratified to hear her reluctance matched his own.

"It's getting late and I have a dinner date to dress for." She added with equal enthusiasm as they both stood and gathered their coats, and John couldn't help his reflexive frown, it wasn't rational but for a moment the idea of Missy on a date bothered him and John covered the difficult emotion by insisting on paying for their refreshments despite Missy's protests.

"A gentleman would never allow anything else!" John insisted cutting off Missy's protest with a phrase his grandmother drilled into him at length during his childhood. Then to emphasis his point he even held the door to the bakery open for her.

The cooling November air was invigorating and John almost found himself looking forward to the walk back home, it would take him the best part of an hour but John couldn't stomach the idea of public transport and at this time of day taking a cab could almost take as long.

"You know you still haven't told me anything about your book John Smith."

Missy sudden observation brought John up short and he turned to stare down at the smiling bundled up brunette.

"No I guess I didn't…" He replied amazed with himself that he had seemingly completely forgotten the real reason he had come here in the first place.

"Well there is always Thursday I suppose?" Missy countered airily choosing to ignore the puzzled expression on John's face as she stepped forward and managed to flag down a passing taxi.

"Why what is happening Thursday?" John spluttered his confusion merely growing as Missy spoke to the cab driver and pulled open the back door all without paying him the slightest scrap of attention.

"You're meeting me for coffee again."

"I am?" John questioned, stepping forward as Missy vanished into the voluminous black hole of the Hackney's back seat. "Missy I…"

"Here Thursday Two O'clock!" Missy commanded imperiously her blue eyes glinting with mischief, savouring the combination of stunned bemusement on John's handsome face. "And don't you dare stand me up John Smith or I might have to consider suing you after all!"

-/-


End file.
